


A Conga Line and Other Bright Lies

by ProcrastinatingSab



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Attempted robbery gone wrong, Badass Malcolm Bright, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Post Ep 11 PTSD!!, Post Ep13- Pre Ep14, drugged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24479446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/pseuds/ProcrastinatingSab
Summary: Do you guys seriously believe that Malcolm went on a tropical vacation for TWO WEEKS between episodes 13 and 14 and that he spent his time reading?Here is what our disaster boy did at that time! YEAH, he kinda gets himself in trouble... like taken hostage by armed robbers trouble!
Comments: 49
Kudos: 68
Collections: Prodigal Whump Fic Exchange - Spring 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rolypoly_panda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rolypoly_panda/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [A Conga Line and Other Bright Lies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26752633) by [Myrka1979](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrka1979/pseuds/Myrka1979)



Malcolm spent the grand total of four days in Tahiti before he started plotting his stealthy escape back. He promised Gil and his mother that he would try to relax and enjoy it. And Malcolm did! _Well, he tried to._

The first three days, he stayed in his room devouring crime novels and psychological thrillers, and as entertaining as they were, Malcolm couldn't stop noticing some inconsistencies and unbelievable reveals in their endings. On the fourth day, it was starting to get to him, and he was seeing the girl in the box in every victim, his father in every killer, and John Watkins in every kidnapper. Malcolm decided to stop. He needed to get his mind off things, and this vacation was not helping. He needed a real murder to solve or a mystery to crack. 

He just had to get back to New York, and even if Gil wouldn’t let him report back yet, he could work his way through some of the cold cases in his office. He'll find something.

Leaving without alerting anyone wasn't easy. After last time's lie, his mother decided to take extreme measures to ensure that he went on his trip and _stayed there_. Not only did she call him every day and demanded that he send her a picture as proof of him staying there, but she also sent a secret agent to spy on him and report back to her. 

It took Malcolm all of thirty minutes after he checked into the hotel before he made the guy. With the promise that he can sleep in Malcolm’s suite and use all his privileges, Leonard was persuaded to cover for him and keep his secret. 

So, on the sixth day of his second try at a vacation, Malcolm was back in New York City. Despite his desperate need to go back to his much-missed loft and to see Sunshine again, he decided against it. What if his mother had someone posted there as well, keeping an eye in case he decided to cut his vacation short and return earlier? It was a risk he wasn't willing to take, so he checked himself into the Plaza and hoped he wouldn't be caught.

He was glad he was back, though. Over the past six years, Malcolm was a regular attendee at a small charity that supported orphaned children who went through traumatic events. Being diagnosed with complex PTSD meant Malcolm understood just how much they suffered and wanted to help in any way possible. So, apart from the anonymous monthly deposits that dropped in their bank account, he liked to attend the actual event as well. Every year he would go, sit and play with the kids and give them candy before sneakily slipping a check with a hefty sum in the donation box. 

Malcolm made his way to the place wearing a black sweater, grey scarf, and dark jeans to match. He ditched all his fancy suits so he could blend in just like he did many times before. 

Lisa, the woman in charge of the event, knew him. She welcomed him with a warm smile and let him in. The place was warm and cozy. Not many people knew and attended such events. All in all, the place had around ten guests, the staff, and the kids. 

Malcolm was engaged in a game of 'I spy' with one of the kids in the inner rooms when the sound of panicked screaming grabbed his attention. His head whipped to the door, and he rushed to check the source of this sound. His eyes widened in shock when he saw everyone huddled by the wall at the furthest end of the room. In the middle stood two figures, dressed in black, faces covered, armed.

The taller figure, a man, noticed Malcolm and the rest of the kids who followed him and motioned for them to join the group. 

“Nobody moves,” the man warned. “You’ll make this easier for everyone if you listen and don’t do anything stupid.”

The kids started crying, someone whimpered, and everyone's faces paled in fear. “I am aware that this is a charity event. So everyone just… just give us your money and we’ll be on our way.”

“But this money is for the kids,” Lisa pleaded fearfully, “w-we need it to…”

"Did I say you can talk, Lady?" The man aimed the gun at her, and she instinctively took a step back and raised her trembling hands up. 

"I don't care! Money…" he looked and glared at the people, "anything you own… NOW!"

"Ok ..ok... " Lisa walked hastily to the safe. The room, once quiet, was now buzzing with life as the rest of the people started to take out their money. The other person, a woman, held out a bag from them to drop their things in. 

Malcolm bit his lip. So far, he had been silently watching them, drawing out conclusions, studying their body language. A man and a woman. He was older, more assertive, more sure of himself. Yet, he looked volatile. This was probably his first time. She was a follower, stressed, fidgety… _jumpy_ , even _._ Her hands trembled as she held her gun, and Malcolm noticed just how tightly she was gripping it. It was definitely her first time handling a firearm. 

They looked young, inexperienced, amateurs. These were people who didn’t know what they were doing. That was even worse than dealing with those who did. If anything changed, if they felt like they weren’t in control, they would panic and act impulsively. It meant that in a second, this situation could escalate and end in a disaster. 

Malcolm looked around him, and something in him just snapped. The people in this room were trying to do good despite barely having any money to spare. The kids had been through enough, they didn't need more trauma. No one deserved this. 

He licked his lips and took a few steps towards the man, making sure he stood out. The guy jerked his gun up in alarm, aiming it at Malcolm. "Hey! Stay where you are! What do you think you're doing?"

Malcolm raised his hands in surrender, "Hey, listen. Look, you’re _still in control_. I just want to tell you that these people have nothing to offer. This isn’t one of those fancy charities you hear about. That’s what Lisa was trying to tell you.” 

Malcolm dared to glance at Lisa and found the woman nodding her agreement. The man said nothing, and so he continued. “I am _rich_ . My family owns half of New York City. You can leave today with a couple of thousands at best, or you can listen to me and get _actual money_.”

The room fell quiet. 

“Do I look stupid?” the man scoffed, “get back in line and shut up!”

“You are _not_ ," Malcolm reasoned, and he pulled the check from his pocket, "Look, I am telling the truth. I am rich!”

The man’s eyes- the only thing visible from his mask- widened when he saw the figure on the check, and then his eyes darted back to look at Malcolm. This time Malcolm saw the greed shining in the man’s eyes.“I could just take that check. Something guaranteed is better than a dream.”

"You can't. It's written for Lisa, and only the person whose name is on can withdraw the amount... **But** we could go to the bank, and I'll withdraw whatever sum you need from my account…Just take me, and you can get all the money you want. You don't have to hurt those people. I promise you, it's not a lie." 

"Take you to the bank? So you can tell them about me and have me arrested? No, I don't think so."

"Then I'll call my lawyer!" Malcolm replied quickly, "I'll have him get the money and meet us. You can take it and leave, and everybody forgets this ever happened... Okay?"

The man stayed quiet. He spent a few seconds deliberating, and Malcolm could see that he was inclined to accept his offer. He could see it in the subtle way the man’s finger relaxed on the trigger, in the sudden gleam of greed in his eyes, or the way his overall demeanor seemed to relax. Good, it meant that his plan was working. 

The man finally looked back at him and motioned with his gun for Malcolm to come over. "Fine. come, let's go."

Malcolm felt half the people sigh in relief, and so did he. His gamble was paying off. The man scooped the front of Malcolm‘s sweater and roughly pulled him towards the exit. 

"Wait!" the woman shouted, running towards them. She was more panicked now, scared even. She whispered a few words that only Malcolm could hear. "What if he escapes? What if things got worse?” she whined, “Please, let's just leave. This whole thing was a bad idea."

"We aren't leaving empty-handed," the man hissed back, "we are leaving, _and_ taking the rich boy with us." 

He surveyed the room then looked at Malcolm again. 

“Right...” he said and then tugged at the scarf Malcolm wore, “take this off.” 

Malcolm took off his scarf and waited as the man used it as a blindfold, tying it firmly around his eyes. Malcolm’s world was drenched in darkness, and then the gun was shoved in his back. 

"No one calls the cops, or this man dies," he warned and pushed Malcolm, who stumbled and tripped. The man quickly grabbed him by the shoulder, preventing his fall. “Move, rich boy. And don’t make me hurt you.” 

Malcolm took a long breath and let himself be led outside, down the stairs, and into a van. 

He couldn't believe that his bluff worked, that they actually listened to him and left the people alone. They didn't even take the money they collected. 

It wasn't until the van started moving that he realized what he just did. He had been so fixated on saving the people that he didn't notice the hole he dug himself into. But now that everyone was safe, he started to actually worry about himself. 


	2. Chapter 2

Gil was drowning in paperwork. The past couple of days had been crazy. No, actually, the past month had been the stuff of nightmares, both professionally and emotionally. 

It started with Malcolm getting kidnapped by Watkins. Then two weeks into his recovery, he enrolled himself in a cult to solve a murder, underwent unlicensed electroshock therapy, stole one such device, and almost electrocuted himself to get rid of his hallucinations which short-circuited the precinct’s power supply and resulted in mountains of paperwork as well as a psych eval for Malcolm that…well, went sideways.

And just when Gil thought things couldn't get any crazier, their murder suspect hid a landmine under a dead body that almost barbequed the entire team. Malcolm held the mine down until they left, jumped from the window to escape the explosion, then fell three floors and landed on Gil's beloved, _beloved_ Le Mans. Not to mention the flying swords Malcolm tried to catch to save one of the victims, and then how he followed _yet_ another suspect in a dark tunnel….

Suffice to say, Gil’s plate was _full_. 

More than the tons of paperwork he had to deal with, he was beginning to worry about Malcolm and the number of bizarre situations he continues to throw himself in. In fact, since he started working with Gil, Malcolm had been on a path of self-destruction that was sure to end in a catastrophe. Maybe Malcolm and Jessica were right. Maybe it was Gil’s fault that so much pain and danger were surrounding the kid. Or maybe this had always been Malcolm’s life, even back in the FBI, as well. If anything, he was fired after punching a sheriff.

Gil sighed. Even if Malcolm had been danger prone before he worked with Gil, he still felt terrible about being the reason behind it this time around. They were due for a long conversation about this. Gil had been meaning to talk to him since the incident, but he couldn't find the right time, and now Malcolm was on vacation again.

Gil was actually happy about that, that Malcolm had finally listened to them and took some rest and recuperation time. If given the chance- and the money- Gil would have gone with him on that trip. He just couldn't trust the kid to keep out of trouble, and as much as he needed the break, he really needed to keep an eye on him.

The last time Gil called him was this morning, and Malcolm sounded like he was doing well. The call was brief, as usual, and he was still cooped up in his room _reading_. Leave it to Malcolm Bright to travel to Tahiti and spend all his time quarantined in his room. 

Gil chuckled softly and noticed his phone vibrating. Speak of the devil. It was Malcolm’s number. 

“Hey, city boy!” he leaned back in his chair, “finished up the seventh book already?”

"Hey... Um, Gil! not quite done yet, no."

"Mhm … Don't tell me you're still—" Gil stopped mid-sentence. Something didn't sound right; Bright's voice was edgy and high pitched, a tone he knew very well. This was a 'high on adrenaline and in trouble Malcolm' tone. Gil's heart plummeted.

“Bright? Is everything alright?”

“Well...”

“Where are you? Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine, Gil. Listen. I wanted to ask for a favor, and I don’t need my mother to know. You know how she gets.”

“Well, I don’t see how…”

“Gil, please. As my lawyer, you can’t tell anyone about this. Attorney-client privilege, remember? I just need you to withdraw some money and meet me, okay?”

“Your wa-- Wait, slow down. You want me to _what?_ ” Gil had no idea what Malcolm was saying. Gil was _not_ his lawyer. He was not any lawyer. Nevertheless, Gil decided to say nothing and let Bright continue. Whatever new trouble Malcolm was in now meant he couldn't speak freely. 

With that in mind, Gil just tried to play along. Well, at least until the door to his office flew open, and JT's loud and booming voice announced, "Boss, they just caught a homicide downtown, do you want me to-"

Gil couldn’t mute the phone on time, he was sure the voice carried through to the other side. He hastily jumped to his feet and motioned for JT to stop, but it was too late. 

“He’s a cop?” Gil tensed when he heard the voice. Was the call on speaker?

"Umm, no, no ...." Malcolm shot back, and Gil could hear the panic in his voice.

He glued his ears to the speakers and tried to discern the voices that were shooting through. He heard a scuffle. He listened to both men grunting and the sound of metal clanking, and then a thud and nothing at all.

“Bright? BRIGHT!! ... damn it!” 

His phone went to dial tone.

Gil banged his hands on the table in frustration. The events of the last few minutes were worrying for sure, but the last few seconds were damning. He racked his brain, trying to make sense of the cryptic phone call.

The clock’s arms moved to indicate the passage of time, yet Gil remained frozen in shock. He couldn’t hear anything but his heart thundering inside his chest, the blood pooling in his head, and the ringing in his ears. What the hell did Bright get himself into this time? Was he back in New York? Meet him where?

“Boss... boss... GIL!!” 

Gil blinked and looked at JT, whose eyes were frantic with worry. 

“What’s happening with Bright?” he asked.

Gil opened his mouth to reply, but he was interrupted by his phone vibrating. A text from Bright.

It was a picture of him, unconscious. His wrists and ankles were duct-taped. His mouth was taped as well, and a trail of blood was trickling across his temples. 

Gil's heart leapt to his throat, and before he even caught a breath, the phone rang. “If you hurt him! I will—” he growled at the caller, and his hands shook as they held the phone. 

"Listen, cop…. If you tell anyone, I won't hesitate to kill him. Just do as he said. I want four million. You have five hours."

(~~~~~~~~~)(~~~~~~~~~)

**_Fifteen Minutes Earlier_ **

They were still in the van, Malcolm huddled on one end, and his captors crouching on the other. He held his phone on speaker as he dialed Gil’s number and hoped that his plan would work. The man had his gun aimed at him and was staring daggers at the phone. 

“Hey, city boy!” Gil’s cheery voice came through, “finished up the seventh book already?”

He took a deep breath and willed his voice to remain calm, “Hey... Um, Gil! not quite done yet, no.”

Gil knew him all too well, though, and he saw through his facade in an instant. Still, the lieutenant was smart enough to follow along with Bright's plan. Malcolm had prepared what he wanted to say. Every word was supposed to be a clue, have a hidden meaning that only Gil would understand.

But then JT spoke, and Malcolm saw his plan disintegrate before his eyes. Malcolm's eyes widened in shock, and he heard the man's breathing hitch. The woman whimpered and started trembling. 

He had been made, _for sure._

"He's a cop?" the man hissed the words, and his eyes were lit with uncontrollable panic.

"Umm, no, no ...." Malcolm replied quickly. This was bad. Anger, fear, and a loaded gun were a recipe for disaster, and he had to find a way to diffuse the situation.

The man slapped the phone from his hands, and it flew all the way to the other end of the van. Malcolm swiftly kicked the weapon from the man's grasp sending it sailing through the air, and then he lunged for it. The man was taken by surprise, clearly not expecting his opponent to be so capable. He soon recovered, though, and was on top of Malcolm fighting for control over the gun.

It was an unfair fight: Malcolm had the experience, the training, and the upper hand, while the man had only blind range and volatility. And Malcolm would have won if it weren’t for the woman shoving her gun in his back. 

He stopped, got on one knee, and raised his hands in surrender. The man got up too, panting, and he grabbed his gun back. He glowered at Malcolm before he pistol-whipped him with all the power he could muster.

Malcolm dropped like a log, but not before he could hear Gil’s voice screaming through the phone. 


	3. Chapter 3

Malcolm was drifting in and out consciousness, floating in a semi-dazed state, able to receive but not comprehend, hear but not understand, think but not articulate ideas. The panicked and heated arguments of his captors filtered through the haze, and some of the words like cop, money, and trouble brought him to full consciousness. 

He kept his eyes closed and summoned all his will to concentrate and make sense of their conversation. The girl's voice was strangled with tears, worried, almost hysterical, while the man's was laced with anger, fear, and desperation. 

"Nick, we’re in _way_ over our heads. It went from some _stupid_ robbery to kidnapping a freaking cop!”

"It wasn’t supposed to go this way! He said he will just call his lawyer, not the goddamned police. Besides, how would I know that he was a cop, to begin with!" 

"Well, _maybe_ the way he was acting at the charity event was enough proof."

“He had money, Sarah! Cops aren’t that rich.” 

“Then maybe we can just... let him go and get out of here. Or, or cut him loose and run before he wakes up? Please, Nick.”

“He’s seen our faces. It’s too late already. Just .. trust me, Okay? It’ll be fine! Just have a little extra faith in me.”

Malcolm zoned out when the argument subdued, and the girl started crying. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked a couple of times to get them to focus. He was slumped in the corner of a room, an abandoned building judging by the state of the walls, the floors, and the abundant trash. 

He groaned but found that tape was covering his mouth, muffling the sound. Now that he was aware of it, he could feel how constricting it was, barely leaving room for the air to reach his nose. His wrists and ankles were immobilized by sturdy duct tape, as well. And It was wound so tight it was almost cutting off his circulation. His limbs were already growing numb. 

Anyone would have assumed they were trying to hurt him, but Malcolm knew this wasn’t cruelty. They were inexperienced and didn’t know how to do things right. These were people scared of him and trying their best to make sure he stayed bound.

Malcolm knew his situation wasn’t improving. It was becoming highly unpredictable, and more likely to end badly. Being pistol-whipped was one example. Being bound and gagged? That’s another example. 

Gil had obviously figured that something was wrong. He just hoped that he had given him enough leads to follow. 

Malcolm had no idea what happened after he was knocked out. He had no way of knowing what happened between the scuffle in the van and him waking up tied in an abandoned building. What did the man do? Did he speak with Gil? Did he demand money? He heard the word four million when he was coming to. So, did that mean he was now held for ransom? 

He couldn’t help but snicker. So much for staying under the radar and not alerting anyone about his return. ‘Under the radar’ was not a phrase in his dictionary. 

Malcolm rested his head against the wall and tried to think. Time was running out, and he needed to find a solution to this mess, preferably without anyone getting hurt.

After her fit of crying, Sarah and Nick left the room, unaware that he was now awake. Or maybe they just pretended they didn't notice him. Malcolm guessed that it had to be night by now, judging by how dark the place was, and how little to no light seeped through the tinted windows. 

He’d spent the past _minutes? Hour_? Trying to wiggle out of the tape, tear it, or at least remove the one on his mouth. All attempts ended in failure and yielded discomfort, more pain, and frustration. 

The sound of the door opening grabbed his attention. The figure, he assumed Sarah, walked inside and flipped on the switch to a construction grade light they had in the room. The light wasn't too strong, but Malcolm squinted, his eyes had already adjusted to the dark.

Sarah approached him and crouched by his side. She removed the tape, gagging him, and he winced as it took some of his whiskers. He was glad, though, and heaved in a couple of full breaths before sagging against the wall once more. 

She held a glass of water to his lips, "I thought you'll be thirsty, by now," she said, avoiding his gaze.

Malcolm gulped in a few mouthfuls hungrily. He was _very_ thirsty. For a while, the thirst was nagging at the back of his mind, and being gagged didn't make things any better. "Thank you!" He rasped when he was done. 

She nodded quietly and then dared to look at him, "your head is fine?" she asked, and he could hear the guilt in her voice.

“Yeah… I’ve had worse, don’t worry about it.” He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to ease her worries. Malcolm was eyeing her curiously and noticed her lips quiver, “does he know you're here?“ 

With a sudden jerk of the head, she hissed, "No. And I’m not supposed to be talking to you!" She looked behind her to make sure Nick wasn't already there. 

Malcolm smiled gently, “Is this your first time?”

It took her a few seconds of deliberation before she replied.“That obvious?” She muttered, ashamed as if he caught her sneaking out of the house after curfew. 

“Might have picked up some clues. This isn’t my first kidnapping…” he laughed. 

“You’ve been kidnapped _before_?” 

“Yuh…” he answered and smiled at her surprise, “last Christmas!” 

She fell silent once more, her gaze dropping to her lap where she fiddled with her hands. 

“You don’t have to follow what he says,” he probed gently, “I can see you don’t want to do this...”

“I have no choice...” she whined in desperation. 

“Your boyfriend?” 

She nodded, “he’s all I have left. He’s a good man! He is.. he’s just lost his way...”

“You know I can help him? There is hope for him yet, he can get help…” When she scoffed and shot him a dirty look, he continued hastily. "I mean it. Really. Attempted robbery is not like kidnapping and ransom. That's the difference between a class B and A felony. You can let me go, and we can fix this."

"This was your idea! You talked him into this!" she accused him, and he could see her trembling with rage.

“That’s true…” he admitted, “at the time, I wasn’t thinking about you.” He looked at his state and mumbled, “or even me for that matter. I just wanted you to leave the people unharmed. These people have suffered enough already. They— they didn’t need more pain and trauma.” _But I could handle it._ His mind supplied. Malcolm sighed and held her eye contact, “I know you want to do the right thing. I can see it in your eyes, your posture. Sarah, help me help him…”

“It’s too late now!” she spat and was now shaking violently. She was staring at her lap again, clutching her shirt as the tears fell on her palms.

Malcolm's eyebrows shot up, quizzically, "what do you mean?"

"Nick-- he sent a picture of you to your friend, the cop, asking him for the money. He also threatened to kill you if he told anyone. It's over! We're screwed." she was hyperventilating now. 

Malcolm was at a loss for words. His father's sneers and jeers were taunting him once again. We are the same, they said. _You ruined this guy’s life by corrupting him and suggesting he kidnaps you. You are just as manipulative as me. You are just like me!_

He shook his head, trying to silence the voice, and drown the cacophony of abuse it kept throwing his way. In the moment's distraction, he didn't notice as Sarah stood up, went to the far end of the room, and returned with more tape. He tensed when she was back. Getting silenced again was not going to save anyone. 

"Listen," he tried, "Listen, we can _still_ fix this. My friend, Gil, the one we talked to…he’s a good man. He won’t hurt him, I promise. Just tell him where we are. Things can still be saved!”

She cut the length of tape, “it’s too late.”

"No, Sarah, listen, listen, listen .." he squirmed and raised his bound hands up, "I am serious. If you trust me, things will get better for him, and for you.." he argued. 

She hesitated for a second, and he took this as his chance to continue. "Just send him a message. Lieutenant Gil Arroyo of the 16th precinct. Tell him where we are, and he'll handle this in the best way. Please, Sarah, don't let this escalate into something we can't come back from. I know you're a good person. I can see it. _I can see it !_ ” he implored earnestly.

“I'm sorry. I can’t betray him like that.” She secured the tape back on his mouth, sticking it firmly, and silencing him again. “I'm sorry,” she switched off the lights, ran out and closed the door. 

Malcolm was once more engulfed by the darkness. 

(~~~~~~~~~)(~~~~~~~~~)

It took him a few minutes to acclimate to the darkness again, during which he tried to twist and jerk his hands and legs, hoping to stretch the tape enough for it to give way. The constant movement was rubbing at his skin, but he ignored the nuisance. 

The brief conversation he had with Sarah left him drained. Malcolm was almost sure he could convince her to help him. He could see it in her eyes. That look. The desperate look of someone afraid to become a monster. It was one he saw reflected in the mirror every day. 

He was so close. So close!

Maybe it was something he said or something he did that stopped her from helping. Malcolm could not know. Usually, he talks suspects down. Yes, he could talk murderers down, and they listen to him because they relate. The fact that he couldn’t get through to Sarah, supposedly still a good person, was like a dagger in the heart. What would that say about him? Would it confirm something he always dreaded was true, even as he tried to convince himself and everyone else that it wasn’t? Did that mean he was also a murderer on standby, a bomb waiting to explode?

If his hands were free, Malcolm would have clawed at his face in desperation. Watkin’s promise surfaced to the forefront of his mind. What if Malcolm’s trial succeeded, even if John didn’t kill his family? What if unwittingly, John had released that feral animal that Malcolm kept prisoned in the deepest depths of his mind? 

His hands were bound so tight, and his efforts were fruitless, and so he concentrated all his energy on freeing his legs. If one is free, he could escape. Malcolm worked on his feet, trying different moves, twisting, bending, tugging one leg away from the other as far as the tape would allow. 

One leg broke free, just as the door to the basement opened. Malcolm Stilled and kept himself in the same position as if he was still restrained. 

Nick's nervous steps entered, followed by Sarah's unsure and fearful ones. The lights came on, and Nick was crouching in front of him. 

Nick ripped the tape from his mouth, and Malcolm grimaced. "You know, there are other options to gag someone!" he complained. 

“You’re a cop!” Nick spat, shaking with anger. “You lied to me! YOU!-- _You_ tricked me!”

Despite himself, Malcolm laughed harshly. "You are a criminal. Of course, I tricked you! You were going to rob those people. What kind of monster steals from _charity!”_

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now!” Nick growled as he paced in front of Malcolm.

"I can give you ten." Malcolm smiled, showing him an even row of teeth. "Maybe because you will be convicted for my murder, or that you still need me for the money you are hoping to get… mmm and also you never killed anyone before, so the odds of it happening now --"

"UNBELIEVABLE!" Nick cut him off, his pacing was more intense, fueled by anger. He threw exasperated hands in the air and looked at Sarah, whose eyes were wide with surprise. "You know what? Screw the money! I'm going to kill this guy! _Unbelievable_! I'm gonna kill'em." 

Malcolm smirked. His plan, though very dangerous, seemed to be working. 

Slowly, he extended one of his feet in Nick’s path who was too enraged to see in front of him. The man tripped and hugged the floor. 

In a second, Malcolm lunged at him the way a tiger would its prey. Even though his hands were tied, he was able to use his elbow as a pressure point, and he held Nick in a chokehold. Nick twisted, tried to shove Malcolm off him but failed. Sarah screamed. Malcolm's hold tightened. Nick kept wiggling.

One, two. The seconds passed, and Malcolm could feel the man's muscles relax. He stopped. 

Nick heaved in gasping breaths and started coughing. 

Malcolm steadied himself and stood. He was panting with the effort to hold Nick down and subdue him. He looked at Nick, sprawled on the floor, and started walking away. "Don't follow me!" he warned him. 

Sarah looked at him like he was a ghost. She trembled and took a step back when he moved towards her. 

“I didn’t hurt him!” Malcolm looked at her and urged gently. “Come with me and let’s go to the police, Sarah. You deserve better than this.”

And then he saw it in her eyes. Unwilling acceptance dared to creep in her expressions, and Malcolm smiled. But then her eyes widened, and she gasped in horror. Before Malcolm could react, a searing pain ignited in his leg, sending the spikes of pain all through him. 

“You think you are some goddamn _hero!”_ Nick yelled. Malcolm went down on one knee. A swiss knife was lodged in his thigh. Nick pushed it further, and Malcolm shrieked, and Sarah screamed." That you will _save_ the girl and all!”

Malcolm grunted tried to speak, but nothing came out. Suddenly Malcolm was on his back. How did that happen? The knife must be laced with some sort of sedative. The room was moving out of focus. The tape was back on his mouth. He tried to keep his eyes open, but they wouldn't obey. 

So much for an escape plan…


	4. Chapter 4

It was almost seven. Three hours had passed since Gil received that ransom call, two more until it's time for the exchange, and they had zero leads on Malcolm's location. He'd let Dani and JT on but only asked Dani to stay and help. After all, there was still a homicide that needed investigation, and JT was his best detective. 

Their first action was to check if Malcolm was back on American soil. Gil had Dani track Malcolm's flight itinerary, and it turned out that he landed back yesterday. This was comforting news. If Malcolm was in New York, then they can do something about it. Following his money trail, they discovered that he had checked into the Plaza. Dani was, now, en route to his room to look for any clues. They also had someone from Cyber ping his phone, so they can track his movements. This was not easy, as the kidnappers had switched it off since the call and hadn't opened it yet. 

In a standard investigation, Gil would say they had good leads, but given their time frame, these weren't enough. Most importantly, Gil still had no idea what Malcolm was doing before he was abducted or who took him. If they didn't know their enemy, then how were they supposed to do anything. 

Patience was key. He reminded himself as he sat and waited and watched the time pass by. Well, that and he was debating whether he should tell Jessica or not. 

Both Dani and JT wanted to keep Jessica Whitly out of it. Malcolm seemed to agree with them, as well. If there was anything Gil could take from their brief conversation, it was that Bright didn't want his mother involved in this. Gil understood why, but he also disagreed with them. 

No. Part of him understood why, and the other didn't. Gil was conflicted. 

The cop in him, impartial and objective, was against it. He wouldn’t engage in any negotiations with kidnappers and offer them money. The cop in him wanted to sniff and find clues to save Bright and bring his kidnappers to justice. 

The other side of him was distraught and scared. His heart had been aching ever since he saw Malcolm passed out and bleeding. Even though the wound looked reasonably shallow, it was conjuring another image that haunted Gil day and night. 

Bright; his shirt covered in blood, hand broken, and face ashen white. 

Back then, Gil knew who took him. They had the leads and Dr. Whitly's help, and they still couldn't reach him in time. Malcolm had to shatter his thumb to save his family. Gil wasn't there for him. This time they had nothing. The cop in him was failing to do his job, and it was risking Malcolm's life. Maybe their only option was to tell Jessica and get the money ready. 

Gil started pacing frantically. But how could he tell Jessica? How could he approach her in less than two months, and tell her that her son was kidnapped yet again? He couldn't break her heart like that once more. He knew Jessica was one tough woman. But she's endured so much already, and there was a limit to how much a person can take before they ultimately break. Gil was almost sure that Jessica Whitly was way past her breaking point, by now. 

A knock on his door startled him. 

“Lieutenant, someone left this note for you.” The young officer gave him a note before politely exiting. 

Gil read the note three times before he could comprehend its contents. He then fumbled for his phone and dialed Dani’s number. 

“Gil! I was just about to call you,” her somber voice came through. “The search came up empty. There was nothing in his room to indicate that he was taken.”

The information took Gil by surprise, and he frowned, momentarily forgetting why he called. But the paper was burning a hole in his hands. He quickly recovered. "I think I have an idea where he is. I just received an anonymous tip pointing to his location."

Dani was silent for a few seconds before she replied.“Isn’t that a bit suspicious?”

Gil bit his lips. She did have a point, but it was a lead. His heart had been aching for a lead for three hours, and it didn't matter if it looked suspicious. Gil wanted to follow it. "There is only one way to find out."

“Umm...Okay. Text me the address. JT and I will meet you there!” 

(~~~~~~~~~)(~~~~~~~~~)

The tip had led them to an abandoned building. It was the perfect place to keep a hostage. Gil had a few more officers with him, and they were all huddled in their tactical van, getting ready to breach on Gil's word. 

"Thermals confirm that three people are in there boss," JT informed him, and he pointed at the screen, "two are on the ground level, and one is in the basement." 

Gil nodded as he fastened his vest. “It has to be Bright! The kidnappers, are they armed?”

“It looks like one of them is,” JT replied.

“We can go in for a quiet hostage extraction,” Dani suggested and looked at Gil for confirmation.

"Yes. One team will sneak in and rescue Bright. The other team will apprehend the kidnappers. There is still one hour before they call again and set up the meet so they wouldn't be expecting company now." He looked at the screen again. The red and orange blob that should belong to Malcolm wasn't moving. 

“He’s going to be fine, Gil” Dani put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“You’re right. Dani, you’re with me. Once we give the signal, JT and the rest will apprehend the kidnappers.”

They all nodded their agreement.

"Let's go get our boy!" JT said, and they all moved out of the van. 

(~~~~~~~~~)(~~~~~~~~~)

Gil and Dani sneaked into the building, making sure to be as noiseless as possible. They navigated the corridors based on the blueprints they obtained and reached the basement where they assumed Malcolm was trapped in. 

The room was dark. Gil signaled that he should go in first and shined his flashlight to inspect the interior. The floor creaked under his weight as he moved, and his hands moved systematically, lighting each section of the room in order. It was empty save from a small table in one corner. 

They found him slouched against the wall, in the furthest corner.

Gil signaled for Dani to follow, and they both ran towards Malcolm. The minute Gil touched him, his hands lashed out and slapped Gil. Gil was surprised at first, but he snapped out of it when he noticed Malcolm's muffled but angry speech. 

"Bright! Bright, it's me!" Gil reiterated as he held him down. Malcolm calmed his fighting, but he was still mumbling incoherently."Wait, Dani, find a better light source!"

After a few seconds, a bright light turned on. Dani had found a construction grade light. They all squinted for a second before their eyes adjusted. Dani gasped, and Gil's eyes widened in shock. Malcolm was lying on the floor, gagged, hands and feet bound with tape, and a Swiss knife was sticking out of his thigh. 

"Damn it, Bright, are you alright?" Gil removed the tape covering his mouth, and Malcolm winced. 

“I’m fine!” He croaked and held his hands for Gil to free them. “Help, _please_?”

"Right..." Gil's hands dived in his jacket, and he fished out his pocket knife. He started working on cutting the rounds of tape. "What happened there?" He gestured to the knife lodged in his leg. 

"Oh... this? Escape attempt. It's fine….. Ahhh..ahh," he let out a pained sound when the tape around his hands finally gave away. Gil had to guess it was because the blood was rushing back in his stiff limbs. The bastards had tightened his bounds so much that it was definitely constricting the blood flow. Malcolm rubbed at his wrists absentmindedly.

“And your head?” Dani asked.

“It’s nothing! I barely feel it.” Malcolm brushed her concern off like it was just a mosquito bite. Gil could see he was still high on adrenaline. “Did you find them?” 

“JT and the rest are closing in on them as we speak!” Dani told him. 

The tape binding his feet gave way too, and Malcolm practically jumped, “tell them to wait!” 

Gil rolled his eyes and held his shoulder firmly. "Bright! Sit your ass down! JT can handle this," he ordered.

“Gil— no listen! Sarah, the girl. She’s on our side. I bet she sent you that tip. Isn’t that how you’re here? I promised her she’ll be safe,” he argued. 

Gil looked at Dani, and she understood his orders. She took out her gun and ran out. 

“Dani will handle this. Now stay down until the EMTs arrive.”

Malcolm sighed, knowing there is nothing he can say that will change Gil’s mind, and sagged against the wall. He smiled and looked at Gil. “Thanks for saving me!”

"Oh no, no," Gil laughed, "you will _not_ get out of this with a ‘thanks’ Bright! You have some serious explaining to do!”

Malcolm started laughing too. “Just... please let’s not tell mother about this?”

“That’ll cost you!” Gil sat next to him and rested his head on the wall as well. Now that Malcolm was safe, he could feel just how exhausted he was. 

“What do you want?” Malcolm squinted. 

"I don't know, Bright! Maybe Five times, you promise to call for back up before you run after suspects."

“Can’t promise!” Malcolm laughed and closed his eyes. 

“How about No jumping out of windows or joining cults without asking me?”

“Mmm… hard”

“You know what? I will wrap you in some bubble wrap and lock you in my house. That’s the only way to keep you safe!”

“Don’t count on it!”

Gil laughed again. "I know, kid, I know!"

(~~~~~~~~~)(~~~~~~~~~)

**_Seven Days Later._ **

“And I am so proud of you, too, Malcolm. No murders for two weeks. It’s a new record. Are you glad you went on your vacation after all?” Jessica announced excitedly and looked at Malcolm. 

_If only she knew!_

Malcolm mused at the events of the past week. He wouldn't tell her of his encounter with Nick and Sarah, or that he was stabbed again so soon, though his bandaged thigh was almost healed by now. He wouldn't tell her about Gil trapping him in his house for six days to make sure he stayed put and out of danger (Obviously, that didn't stop him from solving some cases and working on profiles online). Malcolm smiled. No, his mother didn't need to know any of that. To her, he was in Tahiti for two weeks.

"I did miss the work, but it was nice to get away," he lied, "I shut the drapes and never left my room. Just me and my books." 

Ainsley gave him a look that said, 'Bullshit! I am onto you.' But his mother was satisfied and didn't catch on to that little exchange. 

And so, Malcolm's lie went undetected, and he was safe from the wrath of Jessica Whitly.

_Fin._

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you liked it!
> 
> This is part of the Discord Prodigal Whump Exchange Fic! 
> 
> Special Thanks to my beta CeterisParibus for her help and support.
> 
> Linc:  
> I hope you liked this <3\. Your prompt was not very specific but I know you wanted some badass Malcolm and Pistol-whipping!


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